New Again
by Queequg471
Summary: I'm right here, can you hear my voice? The story of the Bishop family, until 2036.


**A/N: As promised, a tiny Peter/Olivia/Etta fic to calm my destroyed emotions. For Polivietta. This was also because I really wanted to write another fragmented one, like the Densi one I wrote. I had fun with it, and again, tissue warning. **

It was the aversion to, of all things, toast that had first tipped Olivia off. It was only ten weeks after she and Peter had reunited, and maybe she convinced herself it was the cortexiphan, or maybe she hadn't been eating to well of late (there were far better things occupying her time). Maybe it was just a stressful few weeks (_stressful is a matter of degrees)_.

But whatever the reason, when Peter sweetly made her toast and honey in bed, he barely had the time to get out of the way before she headed to the bathroom.

_I know you're lonely, and I hope you'll be alright_

She took the test on the other side.

She told herself it was because they were more accurate, but really, she just needed to _not_ see Peter's face. She knew _so_ well how much this meant to him, how excited he would be, how wonderful he would be.

And she couldn't see that knowing she'd never make it through this (purely hypothetical) pregnancy.

How many times did she get knocked around on any given case? How many drugs were running through her system at any time? How many people wanted to kill her?

How could she ever put this child (and Peter, her brave, kind Peter) through that?

She definitely hadn't expected _her _to walk in.

"It's a public bathroom," the other Olivia pointed out with a laugh. Inspecting Olivia closer, she shook her head with a click of her tongue.

"What's with you? Your arms and legs are shaking like zeppelin ropes in a windstorm."

Olivia hadn't even noticed, but clearly, Liv took that opportunity to slump down next to her. And look at the stick in her hands.

"Whoa…" she breathed. "How long has it been, two months? You guys work _fast_."

"Shut up," Olivia snapped. "I don't need this right now."

There was silence for a moment, then Liv inched a tiny bit closer to her, placing a tentative hand on Olivia's shoulder.

"Then what _do _you need?" she asked softly.

Olivia honestly didn't know, but for this not to be happening sounded pretty good. Fear can do insane things to a person. Which is probably why she found herself gripping her alternate's hand and whispering _stay. _

Liv's grip only tightened when they glanced down, together, at the bolded word.

**Pregnant. **

_Would you have my smile and her eyes?_

Astrid was the first person she told.

She cried, and Olivia cried and didn't know it.

_Don't get attached, _her mind screamed.

_Will you be the godmother? _she heard herself ask.

_It doesn't matter where you've been, you can still come home_

Lincoln only looked mildly crushed when she told her.

Broyles looked like he was fighting down a smile, but simply clapped her on the shoulder and whispered _congratulations_.

Later, she'd find an old ultrasound with Dunham, Olivia written on it. It was folded several times. Well-worn. She never questioned him about it.

The way Astrid told it, Walter practically walked on air when she told him. His smile was irrepressible for weeks afterward.

Olivia recalled that nothing made him happier than feeling the baby kick, and he never mentioned anything remotely scientific about it. It was just like a miracle.

But then again, she had always been their miracle.

_Lord knows you'll have to suffer through some of my mistakes_

And Peter….Peter loved their little baby from the moment Olivia told him.

He was at every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, felt every kick, picked out every piece of furniture for the nursery.

And one day, when the kicks were particularly strong, he took Olivia's hand and placed it gently on her belly. Once her hands were in place, he covered them with his own, and met her eyes.

She's not sure who cried first.

Maybe neither did.

But at that moment, their family just _fell_ into place.

Olivia likes to believe it never broke.

_I'll be there the morning you come out in white_

It took thirty-six hours. Their baby was late, but she always made her own time.

So thirty-six hours later, Olivia lay, flushed and exhausted, in a room at Massive Dynamic, watching the doctors bandage Peter's hand, with an impossibly tiny bundle in her arms.

Her daughter's watery blue eyes were searching the room. Peter had said newborns couldn't focus on much of anything early on, and Olivia had simply seen it as something else to look forward to.

With difficulty (and an assurance to Peter that a repeat occurrence of _that_ would not be forthcoming), Olivia stretched out her legs and laid her miracle on them, leaning down so they were practically nose to nose. She felt Peter stroke her hair from behind, and subtly leaned in.

And their baby, their little Henrietta, her blue eyes focus _so hard _on her mother that it steals Olivia's breath.

She doesn't even realize she's sobbing until a tiny hand comes away from her cheek covered in tears.

And nothing, _nothing _will ever hurt Etta Bishop. Nothing. Olivia doesn't care what it costs.

_Don't go too deep, into the flood. Don't stare too long, you'll poison my love_

Etta says "mama" first. Olivia laughs and cries and spins her daughter around the kitchen, knocking over the pureed peas and not caring.

She says "dada" two weeks later, and the look in Peter's eyes is one Olivia never wants to forget.

_You had it all, for a pretty little while_

Etta walks at eleven months, talks at fifteen, and by eighteen months, she is running around the lab, squealing with laughter, almost daring her mommy and daddy to pull her away from Gene's legs.

It'll later turn out to be her favorite place to nap, curled against the cow's warm hide.

_They come running, they come laughing. When I start singing, they start dancing. _

The observers rise when Etta is three.

Three and a half, she proudly states.

By then, she the perfect blend of her father and mother.

She has Peter's eyes, and Olivia loves that.

She has Peter's bone structure.

She has a decided "strut" to her walk that Astrid taught her one quiet day in the lab.

And she screams if there are Red Vines in sight, but not in her reach.

_Oh, you're a hard one. I know that you've got your reasons._

But by then, the world is not perfect anymore.

And they are warriors.

Olivia cries for three straight nights in Peter's arms.

She holds him for two more as he cries.

"We'll come back, Liv. She won't be alone. I…I promised her. She'd never be alone. I promised we'd always be there"

_Moments, when I knew I did what I thought I couldn't do_

The next night, they drop her off with Nina.

Olivia lifts Etta's chubby hand to her face and gently strokes her cheek.

"Mommy loves you so much, baby girl. Be brave."

Peter buries his nose in Etta's soft blond hair. He mutters something, but never tells her what.

She never asks.

They release the amber together.

And her baby is Olivia's final thought.

_This is not the end. I am making all things new again._

Their daughter is beautiful. Peter buries his nose in her hair as the tears run freely.

She looks just like her mother.

Distantly, as he clutches their Etta to him, breathing in her scent, Peter remembers his own words from long ago.

"_I've seen what the two of us together looks like. And she is beautiful." _


End file.
